hearts are stupid.

i find myself afraid to love.
terrifingly afraid.

when sweet thing left he really did a piece of work on my heart. broke it. not only my heart, but me. he broke me. broke what i thought about myself, broke who and what i wanted to be with someone. in love.
one day happy and caring for each other intensely. loving me. the next, i am no longer worth the effort, the work to be great with someone.

i am no longer the hopeless romantic i used to be. i no longer believe in fairytales. fairytales are for losers. and i am no longer a loser, i am awesomeness. if cold.

but this dude right here, he makes me want to love. his pursuing of me, makes me smile sideways, and even though i am pretty sure my insecurities are scaring him, he wants to hold my baggage and help me unpack them and that's scaring me. is there such a thing named love. do stomach butterflies really exist or are there figments of our imagination when given the drug that half closes eyes and gives the angels their angelic voices.

i'm not saying i will fall in love with dude, he doesn't even have a nickname yet...i am the queen of nicknames and he doesn't have one yet. signs of the good, the different? the lasting....? i am definitely in like with dude...but love is for losers. i mean, that's what i tell myself, because deep down i no longer believe i am worth the effort, the work to be great with someone.

but he makes me believe that i could one day...

and even though i am liking him more than a crush, it's been a little over a month since my world was shattered and the love of my life broke my heart. i no longer cry, but i do. i'm not ready to love. not ready to just be. not even ready to be touched, because my body still remembers...

my heart is no longer my own, in the midst of tears and pain i gave it back to God, vowing that any man that wants it needs to go to him (my daddy) to get it. dude makes me forget that vow, my heart wants to leap into his open hands and snuggle there.

but hearts are stupid.
i no longer will be.

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life is a movement

I'm in love.

his name is life.

he helps me to keep it moving.

I love that life doesn't wait for us. I mean if it did we would all be lazy, procrastinators. content with depending on tomorrows and laters, fat from our own existance. but life is desgined to cause movement. and we have to move along with it, well I take that back, we don't have to move with it. there are many people, you know some and I know some, at one point we ourselves were those people. the everything's ok people, the laid back people, who don’t run after busses because there will always be a next one, who don't regret going after opportunities because there will always be a next one, who jump from relationship to relationship because there are too many fish in the sea. and semen.

and so life passes by. and we are left standing still. growing older without ever having grown.

life is designed to cause movement. create movement. life is a movement.

sigh…and that is a beautiful thing. God designed life to not wait for us. to not be on hold when we are going through crap. when pain buckles our knees and threatenes to push us down and trip us up, the earth keeps rotating.

God desgined life to push us, motivate us, to inspire us to live. to not merely exist, but to live.

merely existing is boring. and then you die. and no one remembers you.

not even the square inch of life you once occupied.

life is a movement. full of jumps, leaps, runs, dancing, climbing and sliding down.

falling into crap, and getting back up. and showering in the rain that comes in the morning.

movement of muscles. smiles, claps, laughter, damn high fives, running mans and eating (I mean shoot, we gotta celebrate!)

life is a movement.

get moving or die. left standing.

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can i ask a question...

why is it that most men think just because i have big, full, amazingly gorgeous lips, that i give good head?

*blank stare*

#1 you don't know me...how shallow is your penis thinking behind that you think all girls with big lips can give good head? what if i had creepy crawlies all up in my mouth? you deserve to have them all over your sons and daughters for that stupid thinking.

#2 do you disrespect me and yourself that much that you would have someone you don't know from eve slobbering all over your jewels? aren't i a woman? aren't i the mother of nations and tribes. aren't you a king deserving of a queen? no, i guess when the mood is right, you are just another peewee brain thinking dude, searching for a lick from a peasent...i won't even say 2, i'm sure one would be sufficient enough.

#3 what if my big lips held a big secret...like a huge overbite. you must want to get chomped on.

i don't mind being complimented on my lips, granted i personally am not a huge fan of them because i think they are a tad too big, but still it is nice to hear it once in a while.
but you must be fooled into breathing to think i would be attracted to you when you come to me with 'your lips are amazing, you must give good head'

*blank stare*

i don't care if you want to think that, think whatever you want, but when it begins to slip out from between your teeth, think really hard about it because i will throw down a prayer and baptize you with my stink eye.

....i'm pretty sure this is one of those backward thinking norms like ' all mixed children/people are cute ', or ' all light skinned people are cocky ' or ' all pastors kids are freaks'

i'm pretty sure it's one of those things.
end of rant.

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first rehearsal: that's all folks.

sooo, rememeber how i was freaking out about this play i joined?
terrifed of not being funny enough?
pfff...oh please.

last night was our first rehearsal/read through, and my nerves completely got the best of me. and i officially freaked out. i talk about it not so often, but many of you know that i have a speech impediment, basically i stutter. and i hate it with all the life within me.

last night, tired, well exhausted really...hungery, frustrated, emotionally drained (and stimulated), and nervous, i was a prime candidate for 'make a fool of myself' day. minute. with all eyes staring at me, mouth open to read my line i blank. the words just would not come out. i'm sure my face was as red as ever, it felt like it was melting off my skeleton that's for damn sure..sigh. i was sooo embarrased. but it's happened to me many times before and so i should be use to it by now, but i'm not. and i probably never will be.

i had to pray. and hard. "God, please calm my nerves and help me to not look like an imcompetent idiot as i' sure everyone is thinking right now'..'she's pretty, but probably highly stupid'

i slighty recovered from death by embarassment and stumbled my way throught it.
and the worst thing was the director came and asked me 'do you stutter?'
OMG...kill me right now!!!! before or after the dunce hat is delicately placed on my head..PLEASE!

i realized last night, how weak i am when i am thrust out into the open on my own.
O_O <---deer in headlights. aka. me.

sigh...updates to follow.

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my sista b****...part one

collectively women are a hot mess. we are no better than any other people, or stereotype. we gang up on each other, immaturely and maturely pull each other's hair, steal each other's men and call each other worse names than the carriers of sperm do.

bitch. whore. slut.
what ever happened to sister?

we call ourselves names trying to erase the degradation underlying in our face.

I am the baddest bitch.
what ever happened to 'i am woman'
your God given role was not good enough for you?

wiping the spit from our lips after pronouncing the last sound, making up stupid meanings to make our given meaning more agressive. much stronger. more decieved.

bitch has evolved from the name one calls a female dog allowing any male dog to mount her in the street or behind a bush. birthing within her womb many babies that are a burden to give away or sell. drown in the river. toss away in a box. to being a slang term for complaining: griping, misery and unhappiness even if momentarily. to complimenting all those meanings into one : women who are strong- minded, assertive, and in Total Control.

decieved.
the baddest bitch.

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dead leaves falling

i think the dead leaf falling to the ground thinks many things. sadness for being forced to leave the branch it's always known, anger for not being able to slap the butts of crap happy birds leaving it's surface. happy that the crap happy bird will no longer be crapping on it's surface.

but the number one thought.
i hope i don't fall into that pile of crap.

i mean, isn't that what we all think as we are falling down. some dead and some dead like. forcibly or willing. with happiness or sadness.
i hope i don't fall into that pile of crap.

if you were a dead leaf, what would you be thinking as you were falling down dead?

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